PS 3525 
.04 B5 
1915 
Copy 1 



BILLY 



*9 




Tkis Edition is limited to two Hundred copies. 
The number of this copy is 



FREDERIC M. HOBLITT 

2 Redlor Street, New York 



SEP -2 I 9 



BILLY 

By 

FRANK MAHLON 



Published by 

FREDERIC M. HOBLITT 

No. 2 Rector Street 
New York 



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GLA410288 



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BILLY" tf as Written for but one pur- 
pose: to commemorate the faithful- 
ness of the Western Mustang as 
he was knovtfn by a few. His tenacity, 
courage and usefullness \tfill ever be 
remembered by that fetf. He had no 
superior among horses for the xtfork he 
was called upon to do. His was no 
small part in the building of a nation. 

FRANK MAHLON. 



He was black as a gambler's future, 
And as sound as Government Bonds; 
He'd an eye like a Spanish beauty, 
And a head like a sculptors bronze. 



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BILLY 

Billy was a little buck mustang 
That I bought for eight dollars in gold, 
Roped him myself from a thousand, 
When he was three years old. 
And he fought like a mother panther, 
Who defends her cubs in a cave; 
He seemed to cry for his freedom 
As I lassoed and made him a slave. 

Made him a slave did I tell you? 

Well, it Wasn't quite that bad, 

I made him my friend and companion, 

The truest that I've ever had. 

He grew to knoxtf me as his master, 

And never once failed on the ride; 

We tf ent through hell together, 

And I kept him until he died. 

He Ttfas black as a gambler's future, 
And as sound as Government Bonds; 
He'd an eye like a Spanish beauty, 
And a head like a sculptor's bronze. 
When he first felt the weight of the saddle, 
And the cinches ^ere drawn up tight, 
He looked to me for pity, 
And I helped him in his fright. 



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I loosened tke ropes at his fetlocks, 
He could go where he \tfould, you see; 
Then I rode on beside him, 
While he fought to become saddle free. 
When the poor little devil ^as winded, 
He turned and came to my side, 
And believe me or not, I vdill tell you— 
There were tears in his eyes, for he cried. 

I patted his nose and caressed him 
As a mother would her child; 
I let him see that I lo^ed him— 
And then, by God, he smiled. 
He \tfas my friend ever after, 
Which he proved in a thousand ways 
As we cut the trail together 
In the \tfeary after days. 

When the rays of the sun \tfere hottest, 
And they burned like molten lead, 
Bill}) would stand for hours 
To shadow my blanket and bed. 
And when the zero leather came, 
And we had to take our turn, 
It \tfas Billy who gave his warmth to me, 
For \tfe had no fire to burn. 









rTT 



There came a call from the frontier, 
A message had to go West 
To the border of the Bad Lands, 
And a rider \tfas -wanted, the best. 
There were plenty of damn good riders, 
And all knew the task it would be, 
But when the coin was finally tossed, 
The lot fell to Billy and me. 

We left the camp one morning, 
As the sun came over the plain, 
And Billy looked back as We started, 
Seemed to say: "I'll not see you again"— 
It was five hundred miles to the border, 
As the Homing Pigeon takes flight; 
Over prairie grass spread like an ocean— 
We did most of our journey by night. 

It was hotter than Hell in the day time, 
And the prairie supplies you no trees, 
So we had to keep moving by starlight, 
For unless we did, we would 'freeze'. 
Through the long miles of this grass land 
Billy never once offered to quit. 
In about ten nights of hard riding 
We turned the out point of our trip. 















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Were you ever out on a prairie? 
Or see a mirage of cool springs? 
Did you ever drink alkali "water 
And suffer the pain that it brings? 
Have you ever been dog-mad for liquid? 
When your tongue and your eyes seemed 

to burst? 
Well, Billy and I just staggered along, 
We were slowly dying of thirst. 

I had filled my canteens before leaving, 
And Billy had drunk the last drop. 
And visions of dreamland cities 
With mountains of gold piled on top 
Were passing through my failing mind, 
For now I had lost all pain- 
Mow I was sure we were tramping 
In fields of mud and rain. 

But we came up to the river 

When it seemed that all was lost, 

Where we had our fill and plenty, 

And soon forgot the cost. 

We were coming to the end of our journey, 

And I was feeling my best. 

Fifty miles more to travel, 

Then Billy and I would rest. 



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And without the slightest misgiving, 
That eve as the sun hung low, 
We took Northeast by the compass, 
For we had hut one night to go. 
Along in the early morning, 
When we could hardly see, 
Billy pitched into a badger hole 
And broke his front legs at the knee. 

It's a \flell known fact among horsemen, 
However hard they may beg; 
There's only one thing to do in a case 
Where a pony breaks his leg. 
Take off the saddle and shoot him 
ino matter where you may be; 
And I had to do this to my Billy— 
But he d a done the same thing for me. 

Have you ever sat by the still remains 
Of a good and faithful friend, 
And wished that you, instead of he, 
Had journeyed to the end? 
Well that is how I felt that night 
As I sat by Billy's side; 
So don't think that I'm weak-hearted 
When I tell you that I cried. 



I took up tkat heavy saddle, 

And toted it into camp, 

But my heart still carries a heavier loa< 

As through this life I tramp; 

For -when I lost my Billy, 

I lost what seemed to be 

The best friend mortal ever had — 

It seems that way to me. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

UMIPilHMll 

015 926 730 1 



